


Meeting Usakh

by raiyana



Series: The Dwelf series [20]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Other, Prophecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Nár, Chief Advisor and friend of King Thrór, met Usakh once, before his fateful journey to Moria.





	

“I pray you to reconsider, King Thrór. Visiting Moria will bring only doom to you and yours.” A soft voice sounded behind the two Longbeard dwarrow. Thrór and Nár whirled, drawing their weapons at once. Before them stood an apparition. Clad in white, her mithril hair had been braided artfully and decorated with mithril beads and clasps. Her ears just barely pointed through the elaborate weave and she seemed to glow slightly, as if she was drawing in the bleak summer sunlight and spinning it around her like a cocoon. She was unarmed, standing under a large tree. She was almost a head taller than Thrór, and almost two more than Nár, who scowled at her sudden appearance. Neither Dwarf lowered their swords.

“I will not listen to the words of some elf-whore. I will gaze upon the Halls of my forebears, look into the waters of Mirrormere,” Thrór spat. “You will not stop me!”

A slight tremor crossed her serene face, but the elleth simply smiled. Nár felt strangely uneasy, having seen what his King almost surely had not. The elleth wore the beads and braids of a Durin, a noble Lady, and though she wore no shoes and no armour, her easy stance betrayed her skill with weaponry. He did not doubt that someone was watching over her from the shadows of the trees, but the elleth herself would be lethal if provoked. Nár had aired his own and other’s misgivings about Thrór’s desire to see Moria, but the King could not be swayed. When he had passed the Ring of Durin to Thraín, Nár had realized that his King did not expect to return from the journey. In the minutes it had taken him to give the Ring to his son and Heir, Thrór had seemed more coherent than he had in years before, but since they had left, he had reverted to his random ravings about the splendour of Moria. Nár was scared. The unwavering calm on the girl’s face only disturbed him further, and when he realised that Thrór had begun yet another of his long rants about the treacherous Elvenking, Nár feared for their lives.

“So be it. Thrór, son of Dáin, you will meet your end in darkness as you have been lost to it for years. Darkness will hang over your tomb and your line will face toil and hardship for your cruelty and neglect. It has been foretold that your son will join you as he too is lost in the darkness. Your actions will cause tears unnumbered among your kin and their blood will run until the very earth trembles with the beat of your children’s hearts and their dying prayers.” Her voice rose steadily, an ill wind whipping her thin garments about her form as she delivered her prophecy, “Your Heir will take a crown he cannot bear and your people will fall to their knees in anguish!” Nár did not think the King actually heard her, not even the final shout, but Nár heard the whisper she spoke as she walked away, her bare feet silent in the grass:

“Usakh…Zabiralutusmi zai izdnu. Mukhuh id-madrelu Mahal anlukh ai-amrâbzu.[1]”

 

Nár did not realise she had spoken in oddly accented Khuzdul until Thrór had already gone into Khazad-dûm, and the full meaning of her words did not become clear until he faced the world of blood and terror that generations of Dwarrow would refer to simply as Azanulbizar.

When at last he stood before his Great Maker, Nár pled for mercy – not only for himself, but for Thrór and Thraín both – and Mahal forgave his Child, for the Halls of Waiting was a place of healing as well as the afterlife for Dwarrow until the Re-making. Mahal sought to give his children peace in his Halls, peace such as they so rarely saw in life, whether the strife came with a physical foe or a mental demon to battle.

Nár found his peace, though he spent what felt like years in Itdendûm before he was re-joined with Thrór.

True peace lies in forgiving yourself, and Thrór did not manage to do so for a very long time once the consequences of his madness became clear to him.

Nár never spoke of the elleth they had met, and Thrór did not seem to remember the prophetess, so Nár eventually began to think of her as a spirit, a vision sent to attempt to guide him off his chosen path. He was only half wrong, but he never learned the truth about Usakh, and eventually, he forgot about that strange meeting altogether.

 

[1] I will weep with them. May the mercy of Mahal be upon your soul.


End file.
